Inside This Armor
by Omnitrix 12
Summary: This is a fic I'm working on for the Dragons in our Midst series. A young boy named Jeremy struggles to hide a secret, one that could spell doom for him and everyone he loves. Rated T to be on the safe side, due to violence and some other content later.
1. My Social NonLife

Please read and review the fanfic. I'll be posting it in short sections (at least at the start) because I like to make my readers wonder.

**Chapter One: A Buried Secret**

"Hey Matt, pool party at my place Saturday!" That was my classmate Joe Cobb as our science class came out at the end of the period. He grinned from under his black bowl haircut. "You there?"  
Matt, my best friend, grinned back and nodded. "You bet!" he yelled over the noise of a high-school hallway.  
"Cool," Joe hollered back. "Ask Jer if he wants to come."  
It wasn't that Joe couldn't have asked me. I was standing right there next to Matt, juggling the competing tasks of navigating a rush-hour hallway and reading Finding God in The Hobbit. I think Joe asked Matt to do it because Joe and I don't talk much in general, which probably has something to do with the fact that Joe is all about swimming. Captain of the school swim team (his dad is the coach and former captain), youngest kid in our town ever to take lifeguard training even if he didn't pass, and the kid everyone expects to feature someday in a _Jaws_ sequel. I, on the other hand...  
"Hey, Jeremy, you hear about the party?"I pretended to be distracted.  
"Huh? Oh yeah, the pool party." Mentally, I ran through the list of things I'd been putting off. "Sorry, I've got to finish that extra-credit science project I've been working on." It was true that the project wasn't finished, but it was close. I was doing it on alternate theories to evolution, or in English, Creation Science. A lot of info came from my grandparents (who better to ask than someone who was there?).  
Matt nodded and turned back to Joe. "He's busy."  
Like I was saying, I don't swim. Ever.


	2. What's the Deal?

_I guess there's not as much interest in this story as most of my other works, but I'll continue to post more in the hopes that interest picks up._

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As I boarded the school bus at three, everyone was talking about the pool party. As he usually did, Joe had invited every kid in the neighborhood and then some.

"Is your dad gonna be there, Joe?"

"Yep."

"Awesome! He makes the best burgers!"

"Just don't put out the grill with one of your cannonballs like last time!" cracked Matt, drawing laughs from most of the bus. Even Joe grinned; he was as well-known for his pool-draining dives as for his fast swimming.

"I'm going to try out my new swimsuit," some girl chimed in from across the bus.

Matt turned to me. "You really oughta come, Jeremy," he urged. "If you don't want to go swimming…"

"…just come and hang out," I finished in unison with him. It was kind of an old routine. I shook my head. "Matt, it's not that I don't want to go swimming, I just can't."

He looked at me with one eyebrow raised, and I couldn't help smirking. Matt's got this signature confused look that, when you put it together with his unkempt mouse-brown hair, kinda makes him look like Matthias from the Redwall books. Which is part of the reason I sometimes call him that. He finds it annoying because he is kind of short, but when you're best friends with someone you can get away with a lot.

"Yeah, but why? You should see Joe's pool, it's awesome! It's gotta be at least twice the size of your driveway."

"I know," I replied, doing my best to deliver an indifferent shrug. I'd seen Joe's pool from the treehouse in my backyard. I know it's weird to hang out in a tree fort when you're fourteen, but my family's always had this thing for high places. At least, uh, one side of my family. "I just don't swim."

Matt could have gone on, but I guess he decided to give up. It would have just followed the usual track: he'd ask me why I didn't swim, and I'd tell him as close to the truth as I dared.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit jealous of everyone making plans for the party, but I hadn't gone swimming anywhere public in years, and I sure as heck wasn't going to start now. All the same, I could have sworn in court that that bus ride was longer than the whole school day put together.

----

Needless to say, I was not a happy camper as I got off the bus and headed inside. I was even less happy when I bumped into Dad and saw the paintbrush in his hand. "Hey, Jer," he smiled. "Ready to tackle the toolshed?"

Reluctantly, I nodded. "Yeah, just let me get into something I can get dirty."

As I walked past him to go up to my room, I glanced at the backpack he always wore and wondered what it was like to have a secret like his. I mean sure, people thought he was weird when he never took the thing off – he was even wearing it in the wedding pictures in the album from before I was born. But at least he worked at home, so he didn't have to go out as often. Didn't have to turn down invitations to pool parties and stuff. Besides, his secret was kind of cool. Mine was just… ugh.

I went up to my room and pulled my shirt off, looking though my closet for the old tattered one I always wear for jobs like painting. But as I did so, I couldn't resist the urge to cast a hateful look at my torso in the mirror.

Now the way I figure it, there are probably other guys who do the kind of stuff I just told you about. Most of them are probably mad about a really ugly birthmark or a tattoo they know they shouldn't have gotten. Me, I was glaring at my scales.

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_Please review. I like to get feedback._


	3. The Company of Freaks

**OK, technically I got feedback, if not a posted review. But please, I'd like to hear some comments.**

**Anyway, this is where we find out about Jeremy's secret and where it came from. Enjoy.**

* * *

Yes, scales. Like the kind on a snake. That's my big secret: my entire torso is covered in bright reddish-orange scales all the way from my collarbone down past my waist. They haven't reached past my shoulders or down my legs yet, but sooner or later odds are they will.

That's my big secret. I'm an anthrozil. A hybrid – somebody who, someplace back in their family tree, has a dragon from one of the bunch Merlin turned into humans so they wouldn't go extinct. My aunt Ashley – also one of us – says that genetically ``speaking, we're all dragon and all human. In English, that means that an anthrozil has all the DNA for a human and a dragon. But we're not. We're just… half-breeds.

Now, you might think it's cool to be a dragon. So did I when the scales first started forming on my chest when I was around nine ears old. But trust me, it gets old fast. Especially when while everyone else is having a blast, you're stuck wondering which circus you'll work for when your secret outgrows your sleeves.

I was startled out of my annoyance by a knock on the door. "Jeremy?" called my Mom. She knows all about my scales, as well as Dad's wings, but she never walks in on me because she knows I tend to be a little paranoid when it comes to privacy. "I just wanted to let you know I've got your old jeans out here."

"Thanks, Mom," I answered as I pulled on my shirt and opened the door. I couldn't tell her how much it hurt to be the way I was. Mom or not, how could she understand?

As I was painting the shed with Dad, I decided to ask him a question. "Dad, does it ever feel… you know, wrong?"

He gave me a confused look, scrunching his forehead and raising one eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You know, the… thing," I replied, supplementing my vague answer with a nod to his backpack. I couldn't be more specific outside the house, because we have to be discreet about everything.

"Oh," he replied. "Well, maybe once in a while. But it's how God made us, right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, but sometimes I just feel like a freak or something."

He nodded. "I know the feeling. I mean when they first started to grow I was in a place where that sort of thing was accepted. But when I have to keep it under wraps…" I could see his backpack shift a little, seemingly by itself, "… yeah, it does get a bit unpleasant."

"No, Dad," I shook my head as I dipped my brush and wiped off the excess paint. "I'm not talking about _physically_ uncomfortable, I mean… well, there's this pool party at Joe's on Saturday, and I can't go."

Dad nodded. "I know the feeling. I've never been in a pool in my life."

Well leave it to a Dad to put it in that kind of perspective. "Yeah, but you didn't go to public school either. Not until college."

He nodded assent. "Well, Jeremy, I don't know why you were born the way you were," he admitted as he gently painted around the door handle. "But I want you to know that I'm proud of you for taking it like a man."

I sighed. "Thanks," I muttered. It meant a lot that he was proud of me, but a proud Dad can't make you normal enough to fit in.

After we had finished painting the shed, I went back to my room and fell onto the bed. Sure, it was too early to go to bed, but I wanted to just relax for a while.

Flat on my back, I gazed around the room. The place was loaded with my collection: A collection of misfits. From the books, all on inept heroes like The Hobbit, to the posters of heroes like Nightcrawler. I even had a plush toy of Balto on my shelf – he's the kind of guy I can really identify with. With outcasts and oddballs on every side, my room was the one place I really felt like I could fit in.

* * *

**I admit this chapter's not much. Next one will be a lot better, I promise.**

**I might as well say now that this story is based off Bryan Davis' best-selling book series, Dragons in our Midst and Oracles of Fire, which is where the anthrozils and other related concepts come from. Jeremy's dad is one of the original book characters. Everyone else is mine.**

**So, what do you think?**


	4. And you thought your school was bad

**Sorry for keeping everyone waiting. While I was away, I did manage to read the remainder of the Oracles of Fire series, the continuation of the DIOM canon. In the process I discovered some incompatabilities with Jeremy's past and present. So this fic is no longer "canon-compatable," as it were, but it will still be consistent with the characters and spirit of Dragons in our Midst in every way I can make it so.**

**Now, let's see what's going on with Jeremy...**

* * *

That night I had a dream. I was walking down the hall at school, reading a book and letting my danger sense guide me through the sea of moving bodies. Suddenly, that sense blasted into overdrive from every direction, like I was being blitzed from all sides by a crazed football team. I looked up. Nobody was rushing me, just staring. Eyes bulged. Jaws hung slack. "Look at Jeremy!" someone yelled.

I stared at my arm. It was covered with scales! My hand had transformed into a deadly talon, each finger ending in a long black claw. "What's happening to me?" I cried out, but something was wrong. My voice was off somehow.

Fearing the worst, I ran to the bathroom and gazed in the mirror. My face! My mouth was bulging out, my face covered with scales! I looked like a reddish-orange Godzilla! I tried to scream, but it came out instead as a hideous reptilian screech.

I dashed out of the bathroom and fled for the nearest exit. Blind with panic, I plowed past or vaulted over other students like a crazed animal amid screams of, "What is that thing?"

"It's some kind of mutant!"

"Call the police!"

"Call the zoo!"

"Call an exorcist!"

"I'm not a monster!" I tried to shout, but all that came out was a roar. Kids, some old friends, others unrecognizable, scattered ahead of me like Moses parting the Red Sea, desperate not to touch this scaly beast I had become. _'__Gotta get out,'_ I thought. _'__Too crowded. Need to fly._ What? Fly? No!" I bellowed in a voice ten times deeper than my usual speech. "I'm not a dragon! I'm human! Human!"

I don't know if I screamed in my sleep or not, but when I woke up I was gasping for breath, tangled up in the sheets. Fighting free, I looked at my hands. No claws! No scales! I felt like the leaper Jesus had healed. "I'm human!" I cheered, my voice barely above a squeak. I ran my hands over my face, my hair, my arms. "I'm human! I'm human! I'm..."

Then my hands reached my chest. I felt the rock-hard scales under my pajamas, covering my torso. "Not human," I whispered in defeat.

For some reason I found my eyes drawn to the wall, where a ray of illumination from the streetlight outside shone on a poster; a poster for a long-ago play... about Joseph, the dreaming prophet.

I fell back on the bed in defeat, the image on the poster instantly melding with razor-sharp memories of my nightmare. I remembered all too clearly the stories going back in my family about dreams. My late uncle Goliath*, when he was young, used to dream about voices - he ended up getting taken over by Nephilim. Uncle Billy (actually it's more like my dad is his dad's uncle) had dreams about turning into a dragon before he learned he was one. With a shudder, I glanced one more time at the poster of Joseph and pulled the covers over my head as if to ward off some kind of monster. Except this time, the monster was doing the hiding.

'_I really, _really _hope that dream's not what I think it is,'_ I thought.

* * *

**To sleep, perchance to dream. Aye, there's the rub indeed.**

**For those wondering, the Goliath mentioned here is not the same one David killed. Jeremy's uncle Goliath was the firstborn of Makaidos and Thigocia, the two dragons present on Noah's Ark (they also being Jeremy's grandparents, for those keeping track), and possessed the unpopular distinction of being the first dragon to turn evil.**

**Sorry for the shortness. Hope you all like it as much as Jeremy didn't. Please review.**


	5. Field Trip With Extra Trip

**Sorry I've been so long in posting the next part. Now let's see if that dream of Jeremy's leads to any trouble...**

* * *

The following Monday our social studies teacher announced a field trip to New York City the following month. "We'll be there for the weekend," he told us, "So we'll be staying in a hotel. If any of you can't afford that, the school can help, but only if your parents sign a form _this week._ And don't forget your medical forms…"

_Medical forms?_ I thought with the mental equivalent of a snort. My mom would _be_ my "medical forms." Since she's a certified doctor, she always handled most of our medical concerns. _All_ of them, in fact, once my scales started growing. No chance of a normal appointment for me. We couldn't risk it.

"Well," Matt whispered to me, "At least you can come on this."

"Don't remind me," I hissed back. "Do you know how embarrassing it is that my Mom always has to come?"

"Yeah," he admitted, "That's pretty…"

"Mister Markus! Mister Stalworth!" snapped the teacher. "Do you have something you wish to share with the class?"

"Uh, not really," I muttered.

"Well, then share it with each other _outside_ the class," he replied.

"Yes sir," we synched.

Satisfied, he nodded and went back to his announcement. "Now, we will be visiting the Natural History Museum, the Statue of Liberty, and several other places."

I crossed my fingers, hoping the cross at Ground Zero was on the list. Probably not with it being a public school trip, but you never knew.

"All of this is covered in the basic cost for the trip, so…"

My mind was elsewhere. I wasn't sure, but I seemed to recall Mom saying something about a medical class around the time the teacher had mentioned. _She's not going to be happy about this,_ I thought, glaring down in the direction of my secret. Why had I been born with something that kept getting in the way for me and everyone else? _Why?_

Turned out I was right about Mom having a class. I think it had to do with keeping her certification up-to-date. Meaning she would have to re-schedule it in order to have it out of the way in time for the field trip. At least there was no need to excuse her coming. Our school always had need for chaperones on field trips, and she had done it so many times that there had been jokes about putting her on the payroll.

"I just wish your school wouldn't take you on an overnight trip without leaving some other option," she remarked as she eyed the figure on the permission slip. "This is pretty expensive."

"Mr. Logg mentioned financial aid," I ventured.

Mom shook her head. "I doubt they'd make it available to a family with a licensed doctor, even if I only work at it part-time. And the fewer lists we end up on, the better. It's no problem, we can afford it."

I didn't need to ask why we had to stay off lists. It was because of me.

The weeks until the field trip dragged by just like always. The rest of the school seemed to just march along as usual; bus, classes, lunch, classes, bus. We made a few arrangements- Mom would room by herself rather than with one of the female teachers or chaperones (in case I needed emergency care), and Matt and I would get to share a hotel room so we could stay up until two in the morning telling ghost stories. I talked Dad into letting me take his camera along, and Mom made sure she had our little emergency kit packed for agon-dray are-cay. All in all, nothing too rare.

The day of the field trip, though, turned out to be really different.

The trip started out normally enough; we and a few other classes gathered in the cafeteria, heard the usual field-trip talk plus a few extras about the hotel we'd be staying in. It was so boring I actually felt normal. Then we got on the buses, me sitting with Matt. They were even coach buses, not schoolbuses. "Told ya," Matt grinned as he pointed at the small overhead TVs.

"Yeah," I agreed. _As long as they don't play _Reign of Fire.

They didn't. They played _TMNT._

I groaned. Just the thought of mutant reptiles reminded me of my nightmare. Did life have it in for me or something? I half-expected Morgan Freeman to show up in the seat behind me.

The ride took I don't know how long, but finally we got off at a McDonald's to grab a bite. "Now remember," Mr. Logg told us standing up at the front, "We have a five-dollar per student limit. Anything above that comes out of your own pocket, OK?"

As we climbed off the bus, I remarked to Matt, "You'd be surprised what you can get here on the dollar menu."

I turned as I spoke, and suddenly realized he wasn't there. He was still on the bus, letting a group of girls go past. I shook my head, not sure whether to be annoyed with him for doing it or with myself for not thinking of it. I wasn't looking for a girlfriend or anything, but my family is kinda heavy on things like chivalry.

Suddenly, my danger sense flared.

* * *

**Oh, great, what now? A break in the story, of course. Neener neener neener. :P**


	6. Caught Off Guard

**So, what's got Jeremy's Dragon-Sense tingling? The answer may be worse than you could imagine.**

* * *

I looked up, but didn't see anything that looked threatening.

And then it was all over. All over me, that is. I never saw exactly what happened. The best I can figure, her shoe somehow caught on one of the steps. Whatever caused it, one of the girls tripped and fell straight into me. I had just enough time to tuck my chin so my head wouldn't slam against the pavement, and then I was flat on my back.

"Jeremy!" called Mom, dashing over. "Are you alright?"

The girl pushed herself off me and got up. Mom helped me up and, to my embarrassment, dusted off the back of my shirt. "I'm fine, Mom," I muttered. The scales on my back had saved me any damage, although I had a hunch Mom's brushing might have been more to check for any rips or tears in my shirt that might blow my cover. I was more worried about the scales on my chest at the moment; the girl's hand had pressed against them as she got up. I looked in her direction, searching her expression for some hint of confusion or revulsion. She did look confused, but not repulsed. I couldn't quite make out her expression. "Are _you_ okay?" I asked.

She nodded. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, and she wore a white T-shirt and blue jeans. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.

Mom nodded, apparently satisfied, and everyone went back to what they were doing.

It was then I realized the girl who flattened me was looking around on the ground. One of her shoes was missing. "Oh, great," she groaned.

I spotted it. "Here it is," I announced, crouching down to reach under the bus. She smiled as I handed it to her.

"Thanks."

Okay, I admit it – she was kind of cute. I was _not_ looking for a girlfriend. But decent shape, shiny hair, clear skin… she was definitely nice.

"Nice catch, Je-romeo." I blinked. Matt was next to me, elbowing me in the ribs. "Pretty big of you," he went on.

I scowled just a little. "Oh, grow up," I groused.

"Did'ja get her phone number?"

"Matt!" I protested.

He backed off and held up his hands in mock-fear. "Okay Romeo, be that way."

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Why me?"

All through the meal at Mickey D's, Matt pestered me about the girl. "She's looking at you," he whispered.

I turned to look. I couldn't help it. But she wasn't looking at me. she was too busy eating her yogurt parfait. "Is not," I complained.

"She looked away when you turned your head," he grinned. "Take my word for it, she was watching you."

I rolled my eyes. Why did Matt have to bug me like this? Besides, there was _no_ way I was going to get involved with a girl. Not with my deformity. Not a chance.

Of course, if she was OK with it…

_Good grief, Jeremy,_ I thought, giving myself a mental slap on both cheeks. _You think a girl like that is going to be OK with a reptilian boyfriend? Get real!_

"Matt," I persisted, "I am not interested in getting a girlfriend. So stop bugging me about…" I trailed off. "About whatever her name is. I. Do. Not. Like. Her."

"Not even a little?" he wheedled. Then he added, "She's looking this way."

I whipped my head around. This time I _might_ have caught a glimpse of her turning her head away. I looked back at Matt to see him grinning ear to ear. "Gotcha," he gloated.

"OK," I admitted. "So, maybe I think she's attractive. Now knock it off."

"Fine, fine," he backed down.

"Good," I nodded.

I was just about to take another bite of my double cheeseburger when he added, "If you find out her name, I'll stop saying you like her."

"Matt!" I almost yelled. I became aware of everyone watching us. "Matt, knock it off," I hissed through my teeth.

He just smiled. "Just find out her name, and I'll stop saying you like her. Deal?"

I groaned. "Okay," I caved in. Knowing I shouldn't take chances, I pulled out a pen and picked up a napkin. "Write it."

He shrugged, and wrote, "I promise not to say Jeremy likes that girl if he finds out her name." Then he tried to hand it back.

"Nuh-uh," I persisted. "Sign it."

He shrugged, scribbled out his name, and handed me the napkin. I folded it and put it in my pocket, satisfied that I had an insurance policy.

As we filed back onto the bus, I paused to let her walk past while I tried to ignore my heart bumping against my scales. "Uh, hey," I greeted, "I don't think I got your name."

She smiled just a little. She actually smiled! "Tess," she replied.

I nodded and felt my mouth form a grin. "Jeremy," I replied.

She smiled again. "Thanks for the catch back there," she called as she boarded the bus.

"No problem," I said softly as I followed.

I sat down next to Matt. "Tess," I gloated, pulling out the napkin and waving it in his face. "And you know what this says."

He smirked. "Funny thing about that note," he commented. "It was never notarized by a witness."

My eyes got that big. "Oh no you don't," I growled through clenched teeth. "We have a deal and you know it."

"Ooh, Jeremy," he recoiled in mock terror, "You talk like a mafia boss, you know that?"

"Matt…"

"Fine, fine," he caved. "Deal's a deal. I will not say you like Tess."

I nodded, satisfied until I realized he had just said it. I shrugged, leaned into my seat, and was just starting to mellow out when he whispered in my ear, "You are definitely in love."

* * *

**Sorry this chapter didn't have more action. But I'll bet you weren't expecting that when his danger sense went off.**

**I promise the next chapter will be more exciting.**


	7. Trouble in Times Square

**You waited for it, you earned it.**

* * *

Matt was silent for most of the trip, thankfully. But once we were in our hotel room putting our stuff away, he was on my case like fleas on a dog. And I mean that in every sense of the phrase. "You gonna ask her out?" he asked.

"No."

"Ah, you're waiting for her to make the first move. Girls don't like that, you know. You're the guy, you should be assertive." I had thrown three pillows at him during that last sentence, and he dodged them all without missing a beat. "Of course if you're really shy, I could set you two up."

"Matthias," I groaned, "Isn't there someone else you could annoy? A poisonous reptile, maybe?"

"Dude, you're already cold-blooded. Just ask her out, man."

"Matt, I- holy cow!" I yelled, pointing at the window.

"What-" he asked, whipping his head around. I took a flying leap over one of the beds and swung a pillow, curving it around his head and getting him in the face. "Gotcha!" I gloated.

He toppled to the floor, then rolled to his feet snatching up a pillow of his own. "No fair!" he laughed, swinging it at me.

I don't want to brag, but I did have the advantage. I had learned a thing or two about sword-fighting from Billy Bannister, and I was able to use some of the skills I had learned. But the pillows were so flimsy it was more like a knun-chuck, which I'd never used. So Matt managed to get in a good number of hits. Finally I took advantage of my weapon's flexibility, catching and wrapping his just above his hand. With a wrenching motion, I tore the pillow from his grasp just as a knock came at the door. "Jeremy? Matt? Hurry up, we're heading down to Times Square."

I hastily tossed my pillow back on the bed. "OK Mom."

Matt grinned. "Hey, maybe there's a movie theater or something there where you and Tess could-"

He ate pillow.

* * *

I have to admit, Times Square wasn't quite what I expected. You'd think a place with "Square" in it's name would just be more or less a square block of the city surrounded by four streets. In reality, Times Square was more a section of the city with no exact border – kinda like the Bermuda Triangle, I guess. Basically, it was just a place where a lot of big businesses had their main outlets. The Ripley's Odditorium, the official store for the New York Yankees, Broadway Theater, and at least a dozen other stores and attractions lined the streets while people selling everything from watches to watercolor paintings had tables and carts out on the sidewalk.

Those with cell phones had more or less free roaming. Those who didn't had to stick with someone who did, or with a teacher or chaperone. Neither Matt nor I had a cell phone, so we tailed Mom. She was stopping to browse some pictures sold by a street vendor when Matt asked if we could go into the Yankees' store nearby. She said OK, and I aimlessly followed.

I occupied myself skimming through posters while Matt, ever the sports nut, scanned the shelves looking for who knew what. Finally he picked out a ball with some guy's signature printed on it and headed for the register. I followed; I wasn't going to buy a poster of some baseball player I'd never heard of, and I'd been ten by the time I even knew about Babe Ruth, letalone any other baseball players.

That was when the trouble started. Just as Matt had finished paying for his ball and sticking it in his pocket, the cashier looked past us and shouted, "Hey!"

Matt and I spun to see some guy, roughly in his forties and with at least a day's growth of beard, stuff a paperweight into a bag and bolt for the door.

"Hey, get back here…!" yelled the cashier. Matt and I did what no sensible person would have done; we tried to cut him off. I got the door in my face as the man yanked it open and bolted down the sidewalk. Matt slipped out after him, and a moment later I followed.

Dodging pedestrians left and right, we chased the shoplifter for at least two blocks before we saw him duck into an alley. "We've got him cornered!" Matt cheered.

We ran into the alley and stopped. The guy was nowhere in sight. "Where'd he go?" asked Matt.

"Gotcha!"

We spun around to see the him emerging from behind a dumpster with a gun in his hand. "You don't want to make any noise, kids."

Matt was definitely wigged out. And to be honest, I wasn't that calm either. "Y-you don't want to either," I said. "If you shoot us, you'll get other people's attention."

He snorted. "You ever heard of a silencer?" he growled. I didn't see anything on the end of his gun, but even with fear all but running my brain I figured calling his bluff right then might not be a good idea. "Besides, people get shot all the time in New York."

I was in a panic. What if he shot me? Were dragon scales bulletproof? I wondered which would be worse, blowing my cover if the bullet didn't do any harm, or getting killed. If I did get killed, would people find out my secret then? And if they did, what would happen to Dad?

"I usually don't like to be followed, but you might be able to convince me to let ya go. Got any cash?"

I glanced at Matt out the corner of my eye, and saw him reach into his pocket. Then his expression changed, and I got the impression that whatever he was thinking, it was a bad idea. "Yeah," he said, "But the cop behind you might like it better with us."

The guy looked behind him just long enough for Matt to yank out his baseball and throw a curve. The ball hit the man smack in his gun hand.

To my surprise, the guy didn't drop it like you always see on TV. He yelled, and in his anger he pointed the gun. Without thinking, I jumped in the way.

There was an explosion, and I felt myself flung back as a sharp pain ripped right through the middle of my chest. Matt grunted as I stumbled back into him, and then I felt him struggling out from under me as the man ran away. I knew only one thing: I'd been shot.

* * *

**Well, how's that for ending with a bang?**

**So what's going to happen to Jeremy? Is his cover blown, or did he just get blown away?**


	8. A Desperate Gamble

**When we last left, Jeremy had just been shot in the chest. Deadly for some, potentially much worse for him.**

* * *

"Jer!" Matt practically screamed. "Jer, are you OK?"

I didn't feel like I had the strength to talk, so I just groaned. I could feel blood slowly spreading across my chest.

"Aw man!" he gasped. "Dude, we gotta get you to a doctor!"

I somehow managed to shake my head. A hospital was the last thing I needed right now. "Look, Matt," I rasped, clutching at the wound, "This is gonna sound nuts, but don't do that. Just get me… get me to Mom as fast as you can and don't tell anyone about this. She's a doctor, she'll know what to do."

Matt shook his head. "No way, man. A bullet's definitely something for a hospital."

"No!" I insisted. My mind was racing. "Look, I'll explain it if Mom says it's OK, but just get me to Mom."

"Jer…"

"Do it," I insisted, "Or I'll never talk to you again."

Looking back, that was kind of a dumb thing to say. After all, if I died I'd never talk to him again anyway – at least not outside of Heaven. But apparently it worked. He shook his head. "You're talking crazy, man," he muttered, "But OK."

I've gotta give him credit, he worked fast. In five minutes he had gotten Mom, and they had managed to smuggle me someplace out of the way. "We can't get him back to the hotel, that's too far," I heard her saying through the haze of pain clouding my mind. That was about all I could get coherently**;** my whole world was twisting and spinning as I struggled to keep my blood where it belonged.

I was vaguely aware of being laid down, and Mom busy with something in her backpack. Through a red blur I could see her putting on gloves, and felt her insert what must have been a wad of gauze into my mouth. I could barely make out the words, "Bite this."

I'll spare you the details of the operation, but the good news is it wasn't serious. Mom told me later that my scales had slowed the bullet down enough that it stopped at my ribcage, so getting it out was easy. The bad news was, she didn't have time to give me any anesthetic until after I was patched up.

Matt had gone to one of the stores and got me a T-shirt, which Mom put on me while keeping herself between me and Matt. We took a taxi back to the hotel after Mom called one of the teachers and got word out that we were leaving Times Square early. She hated to leave them, but I had come down with a terrible sickness and needed rest. No, it wasn't contagious, just a little "family trait." Yes, I'd need plenty of space for awhile. How long she didn't know, exactly. And oh, Matt was worried so he'd be coming too. I swear she must have worked for the CIA once. Only some kind of an agent could make this sound normal and low-key.

"So what's up with this?" asked Matt once we were underway. "How come you won't let him go to a-"

Mom quickly hushed him. "Not where other people can hear," she whispered, jerking a thumb at the cabby. She turned to me. "Jeremy, is it alright if I tell him?"

I shrugged, then winced. Who knew shrugging could make chest pain worse? "I think we have to," I admitted. "He already knows so much anyway." I didn't mention the other thing, which was that after all this time I wanted to tell someone just to (pardon the pun) get it off my chest.

* * *

Matt helped Mom move me to the hotel room, where she spread a sheet of plastic on the floor and laid me down on it. She sorted through a few different bottles in her medical bag before she finally pulled out a spray bottle of surgical-grade disinfectant. "Are you sure you can trust him?" she asked again.

I nodded, and Matt watched bug-eyed as Mom peeled off my shirt to get at the wound.

"Dude!" he exploded, "What are you, some kind of ET?"

"Close," I chuckled in spite of the pain. He hadn't freaked out, which I guess was encouraging. "Very close."

"Both of you boys, hush," Mom ordered as she worked the bandage on my chest loose. She sprayed the wound, and then my whole torso for good measure, with disinfectant. She dried it off with gauze and then helped me up, pressing more gauze smeared with ointment against my chest. Medical tape and several layers of bandage wrapped all the way around finished the job. Mom was nothing if not thorough.

"You'll have to stay put for a few days," she told me. "But you should be fine."

"OK," Matt groaned, still looking kinda stunned. "Now, are you guys gonna tell me what's up here? Cause I know that ain't just a weird sunburn."

I sighed. "Well," I asked, "What do you know about dragons?"

* * *

**Okay, so how's a friend supposed to handle learning that his best bud's a dragon? Please post what you think, and keep reading.**


	9. Secret's Out

**So, let's see how Matt handles the "Your best friend's a dragon" talk. It should be interesting.**

* * *

By the time we were done explaining, Matt's eyes were so wide I almost asked if he was choking. "Dude, if it weren't for those scales I wouldn't believe this."

I shrugged. Mom had moved me to the bed, but wouldn't let me sit up yet. "Now you know why I never go to pool parties."

Mom looked him in the eyes. "I'm sure you realize it's important to keep this a secret."

Matt nodded. "Don't worry," he said. "Even if I did tell anyone, I don't think they'd believe me." Then he looked at me. "So what else can you do? Can you breathe fire and stuff too?"

I shook my head. "One of my relatives does." I never know what to call Billy other than "relative" because family can be really weird with dragons. I know my dad is his dad's uncle, even though his dad is like a thousand years older than mine. "Personally, I'm glad I don't. The scales are bad enough."

"Oh, are you _nuts?"_ Mat squeaked. "Breathing fire would be totally awesome! And those scales? Why would you want to be just an ordinary guy?"

Mom winced. "Wrong question," she mouthed.

The expression of gravity on my face was the kind you usually see in ads for missionary organizations. "Matt," I answered, "I'd give anything to be an ordinary guy."

Matt shrugged. "OK," he conceded. "So you look kinda freakish. But you took a bullet and your mom just plucked it out like a splinter."

"Believe me," Mom corrected, "It was a lot different than a splinter."

I shook my head. "That's the first time they've done anything good for me," I answered. "Most of the time, the only good thing about it is my danger sense."

If it were possible, he would have looked more skeptical than ever. "Like a spider-sense?"

I shrugged. "Kind of," I admitted. "But if you ask me to climb the wall, I'll bite you."

He shook his head. "Actually, I was gonna ask if that's how you can walk around the hallways with your nose in a book."

I shrugged. "Guilty," I admitted. "I'm a superhero. I'm almost bulletproof and able to navigate crowded hallways without a single crash."

He laughed. "You're totally nuts."

I shrugged. "I got that way hanging around you, buddy."

"So," Mom broke in, getting us back on topic, "We clear on this? You don't tell anybody about this little secret."

Matt got this blank look. "Uh, what secret?"

* * *

Luckily everyone bought Mom's story. Mr. Logg wanted more information, but she flexed her authority as a doctor to the max. The teacher got in for one minute _exactly_ just to make sure I was OK, and then it was just about total lockdown. Mom switched rooms with Matt and me to avoid moving me around too much, but she kept the keys to both rooms on her all the time and checked in on me every hour or so. Besides Matt, nobody got in to see me without her supervision – not even housekeeping. "I thought I was done babying years ago," she joked one day while she was changing my bandages.

I frowned just a bit, not wanting to point out that I'd felt babied my whole life. Well, maybe not my whole life, but since I had started growing my scales. "Sorry I made you miss the sights."

She snorted. "It's just New York. You're more important."

She had no idea how guilty that made me feel.

On the bright side, I found out just how nice the other kids could be. All my classmates and a few peers I didn't know sent me lots of good wishes by way of Mom. Souvenirs, photos, and a few "get well" cards – even an anonymously given watercolor painting of the cross at Ground Zero – found their way to my room, either slipped under the door or passed along by way of Mom or Matt. "Maybe I should get shot sometime," joked Matt one day as he handed me a card. "I can't remember a Christmas or birthday when I got so much loot."

I rolled my eyes and examined the card. It had a picture of Snoopy on the outside, under the words, "Get well soonest." _Soonest?_ I wondered. _Is that even a real word?_ I opened the card and found the message, "Soon just isn't soon enough." Under that, in somewhat hard-to-read script, was more: "I hope you feel better in time to enjoy more of the trip. Please get well soon. Love, Tess. P.S. Thanks for the catch. Can we talk when you're better?"

I blushed. The card was nice, and it was even nicer to know that she was thinking of me. I wondered at her request to talk.

* * *

**So what do you think Tess is up to? And don't say she wants to go out with him; try something more original.**


	10. Who You Gonna Call

**So, Tess wants to talk to Jeremy. But what is her interest in him? Does she think he's cute, or is there more to this than meets the eye? Let's find out...**

**P.S. This will be the last chapter for a while, as we have reached the end of what I have written so far.**

* * *

It didn't take me long to find out. On the bus ride back home, I got a tap on the shoulder. Jerking away on reflex, I spun around only to see that it was Mom. "A friend asked me to give this to you," she whispered, handing me a note.

I unfolded the paper and read, "Give me a call when you get home. My number is 555-6676. Tess."

"Whoa, Jer, you really are a swinger," teased Matt.

I would have rolled my eyes, but I was beginning to wonder myself. Did Tess really like me? And how would I handle it if she did? I couldn't get into a relationship when I had a secret like this. Tess would never want me if she knew.

But then, she _had_ touched me and not reacted oddly. Maybe if I went about it really slowly, I could eventually break the news to her. Who knew, with how little some of us kept in touch, she could be one herself and maybe not even know it, like Aunt Ashley.

Maybe…

I called when I got home, mentally racing through things to say. The one thing I didn't want to say, "Hey, I'm a dragon," kept popping up. _Get a grip,_ I told myself. I settled on one thing as the phone rang, rang, rang. Then the machine picked up. I groaned as it ran through the usual message, and then I spat out the best thing I could think of at the beep. "Hey, Tess, it's Jeremy," I said, straining not to stammer. "I got your note, and I wanted to say thanks for the card." I was all set to say I'd see her at school, then whacked myself as I remembered Mom might not let me go back yet. I tried to go find Mom, only to be stopped by the phone cord. "Uh, I was wondering if we could talk sometime. About the card, I mean." I had lost the battle not to stammer. "So, maybe I'll see you in school sometime. I guess that's all for now, so bye."

I hung up with a sigh. I don't even know why I sighed. Maybe it was hope, maybe frustration, maybe just a wish that somehow this might work. I guess it all boiled down to nothing, except that I felt like sighing.

Was I just kidding myself? Was it even believable to think this could work? And was it dumb or perfectly reasonable to even be thinking about dating a girl when I really didn't know if she liked me? I shook my head. Too many questions. Way too many questions.

* * *

I admit it, I was nervous all evening. And at breakfast the next morning. I almost knocked my chair over when the phone rang, only to find out it was a call from some telemarketer. It took all my restraint to stay calm as I told them we weren't interested in a carpet cleaning.

I came back to find Mom wiping up some water that had splashed out of a jarred glass. "A bit excitable today, aren't we?" she asked coyly.

I blushed. "Too much Cocoa Crispies?" I suggested. It was a lame excuse, I admit it.

Dad smiled. "Jeremy, calm down. She'll call you when she calls you. No need to get excited every time the phone rings."

I nodded, not noticing as Mom and Dad exchanged a wink. "Yeah, I know." Taking a deep breath I added, "I just gotta loosen up a little. There's nothing to be tense about, nothing to-"

I was cut off by another ring. But this time I walked calmly to the phone.

At about 30 miles per hour. "Hello?" I asked, snatching it out of its cradle. There was no answer. "Hello?"

I heard a snort, followed by laughter. Whoever was on the other end was laughing. Oddly enough, so were Mom and Dad in the next room. In fact…

I stuck my head in questioningly, and saw Dad remove his cell phone from under the table. "Dad!" I cried.

"Sorry, Jeremy," he chuckled, "But you should have seen yourself."

I hung up the phone, only to have it ring again almost as soon as it touched the hook. I glanced at Dad before picking up. "Hello?" I asked.

"Hi, Jeremy. It's Tess."

I gulped. "Hi," I greeted. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she answered in one of those tones even I know means "something." I felt my mouth turn as dry as sawdust. "I'm just calling back. Your folks gonna let you come to school?"

I put my hand over the mouthpiece and stuck my head into the dining room again. "Mom?" I asked, "Can I go to school on Monday?"

Mom considered, then answered, "Maybe. I'll check the damage after breakfast and see how well you're recovering."

I rolled my eyes and went back to the phone conversation. "Mom says maybe. She wants to be sure I'm well enough first."

"OK." She sounded disappointed. "Well, I was kinda wondering, when you're back in school, think you'd like to… hang out sometime?"

"Hang out?" I echoed. I knew what she meant, but I was too nervous to really believe it. So I said, "I guess so, do we have any classes together?"

"I'm not talking about classes, Jeremy," she answered. "I'm asking if you want to go out sometime."

"What?" I squeaked. Wasn't I supposed to ask her out? But then, why look a gift horse in the mouth? "Uh, I guess so," I agreed. "Any place in particular?"

"No," she answered, "But I'll think about it if you will."

I was sweating. Seriously sweating. "Ee-yeah, sure."

"Super," she said in what definitely sounded like a flirtatious tone. "See you then?"

"Yeah, when I get back," I agreed.

"Bye Jeremy," she said in what was almost a sing-song voice.

"Bye," I squeaked, and hung up. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, and then jumped in the air. "Yes!" I cheered, coming down with a crash that shook the plates in the cabinets.

"Jeremy, stop crashing around!" Mom called. "Now come in here and tell us what happened."

"I can tell you what happened…" Dad was saying as I rushed back to the table.

I cut him off. "I got a date!"

"Called it," Dad half-gloated.

Mom just got that worried look. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" she asked. "You know what could happen if you…"

I rolled my eyes. Secretly I think I was trying to hide the fact that Mom had put a name to my greatest fear. "Mom, I'm not going to get careless, I promise."

* * *

**Well, unfortunately that's all of this story for now. But not to worry, there will be more.**

**And rest assured, things will get interesting with Tess. The question is, is that a good thing or a bad thing?**


	11. Going to the Dogs

**Sorry for the prolonged delay. I skipped a few steps in my usual writing and don't know how good this chapter will be, but here goes.**

**Just a heads-up, I may start looking for ghost writers if demand for fanfics keeps up. In other words, if someone voluteers I could give them a synopsis, they'd write up the basic idea for the next chapter of a fanfic, and I'd polish it to make it fit with the rest. This is just a maybe, but I'm putting it out there.  
**

* * *

The sermon that Sunday was about relationships. I remember for two reasons, one of which was that I always took careful notes – sort of a habit I picked up from Dad. I'm thinking about going into writing just like him, because it's one of the few businesses where you can stay in as much as you want and no one has to know what you look like.

The pastor preached about the dangers of being unequally yoked, explaining that the metaphor came from the dangers inherent in yoking different kinds of animals together to pull a wagon or plow. Apparently donkeys and oxen, for example, move so differently that if they try to work together they're likely to both get injured badly. Pastor Barns said that relationships are a lot like that – not just marital relationships, which was what Paul was talking about in the passage, but any kind of serious relationship. "When you are sharing your life or your ministry with someone," he told us, "You have to be in tune with each other and with God. Yes, you can have different approaches to solving problems – that's what makes teamwork so useful. However, it will not work if you are not committed to a common purpose and are not willing to agree to one course of action at a time. As it says in scripture, how can two walk together unless they are in agreement?"

Like I said, the first reason I remember it so clearly now was that I took such careful notes. The second reason, as you may have guessed, is that I realized there in the pew that I had no idea whether Tess was a Christian or not. Would our relationship work?

_'Ease up.'_ said a voice inside my mind. _'Even if she's not a believer, you're dating her, not asking her to marry you.'_

_Yeah,_ I thought, _But it's not like I can be casual about dating either._

I might have given it more thought, but I was too busy trying to keep up with Pastor Barns. I decided when we got home I'd take a jog to clear my mind. Usually that proved to be a good idea.

This time, however, it would turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

"So Jeremy," asked Mom after we said grace at lunch, "How well are you feeling?"

I swallowed a sip of water before answering. "Pretty good for a guy who's been shot at," I replied. In response to her irritated expression, I added, "Sorry, I've kind of got a lot on my mind."

"So do I, and you're not helping much."

I shrugged. "I feel fine. You know we dragons heal faster than normal people. In fact I was wondering if it would be okay for me to do some jogging after lunch. Just a block or two and back."

Mom thought about that as she chewed a bite of meatloaf. "Well, I guess some light exercise would be a good warm-up to going back to school. But bring your cell phone. If you start to feel tired or get any chest pains, you let me know."

I nodded and stabbed some green beans. "It's a deal."

I ended up jogging three blocks trying to buy myself time to think. Okay, so I didn't ask Tess if she was a Christian before dating her. Stupid move. But just because she didn't _say_ she was one didn't mean she wasn't. For all I knew, I might run into her around the next corner trying to figure out the same thing about me. Besides, maybe being around her would give me a chance to be a good influence on her.

Part of me wanted to ask Dad's opinion. Another part didn't want to admit I had been so stupid. Except how stupid had I really been? What was I supposed to do, have her sign a doctrinal statement before I agreed to date her? That would freak just about anyone out. Then again, so would my scales.

I was so busy thinking I barely noticed my danger sense flare like it hadn't since that guy was pointing the gun at me and Matt. I stopped dead in my tracks, and there it was.

A dog. It was big, maybe part mastiff, but definitely a mutt of some kind. I started to back away as it rounded the corner and came my way, baring its teeth and growling low in its throat.

They say the last thing you should do when you're facing any kind of predator is turn tail and run; that just gets them excited. The smart thing to do is to face them, act tough, and try to scare them into backing down while you reach for Plan B, whatever that is.

So that was what I did. I put up my hands and tried to warn the dog back. "Okay, pooch, I don't want any trouble. Let's just both back away and forget this ever happened."

Apparently the pooch wasn't buying it; it lunged slightly and snapped its teeth at me, forcing me to pull my hands back. "Okay, I'm warning you!" I tried again in a louder voice. I waved my hands and whacked a trash can. With nothing better to do I grabbed the lid and waved that back and forth. "Don't _make_ me hurt you!" _Fire breathing,_ I was going in the back of my mind. _Just this once, please._

But it looked like my ignition was permanently off, and the dog, which was looking more and more like it had rabies every minute, seemed to want to rip my engine out.

It bunched its back legs, accompanied by my danger sense going straight off the charts. I jumped clear, but it rebounded from where I had been and came at me again.I stumbled back as the dog hurled itself onto me. Instinctively I put my arm under its throat as it struck for my neck, but even so it managed to get a mouthful of my shirt collar. With a ripping sound it tore a large scrap out from collar to hem.

If I had been frightened before, I was mad with terror now. Being seen like this would be almost as bad as getting killed! With a burst of strength I grabbed the dog's neck and pushed it back, staggering to my feet. I heaved it one way and ran the other, but in moments I could hear it hot on my trail and barking louder with every beat of my thumping heart.

I guess the back of my shirt must have been flapping behind me, because it got that too. I felt the tug on my shoulders and tried to fight it. Useless as the shirt was for coverage now, instinct drove me to hold onto it. Then with a tearing sound I felt the fabric give way and was freed of the dog's weight. With a burst of speed I vaulted a picket fence, tumbled as my jeans leg caught on one of the pointed tops, and fell headlong into someone's trellis of morning glories. There was no time to think. Panicking, I raced for the nearest bush and ducked behind it.

I was three blocks from home with my secret wide open for anyone who happened to see me. That was bad. Not to mention this was Matt's neighborhood where I visited all the time. Anyone might recognize me. That was even worse. About the only good thing going on was that it sounded as if the dog had given up. I waited there for what felt like forever, then did the only thing I could think of: took off what remained of my shirt and wrapped it around my head. It took some work, but I managed to shape it into a mask that would at least disguise my appearance. With a little luck, I'd make it home unrecognized.

I sized up my surroundings. I was in someone's yard, backed by woods. If I cut through them I could make my way home without being near anyone. Just one quick dash across the yard, a vault over the back fence, and I'd be out of civilization until I reached home.

It would have been perfect, except that just as I bolted from the shrub I heard someone come out the front door.

"What in the world happened to- hey, what the AUGH!"

I did the dumbest thing I could have done. I froze and stopped to look at the person who had screamed. It was a lady, kind of large, who must have seen her crushed flowers and come to investigate.

I guess it was as bad for her as it was for me. To her I must have looked like one of those lizard men you hear about on Monster Quest (wonder if I'm related?). As if that wasn't bad enough, somehow in the heat of the moment I noticed she had a camera with her. I bolted for the back yard, praying that somehow she wouldn't think to use it. I grabbed the top of the fence and flung myself over, tumbling into a bunch of dead leaves. Picking myself up, I raced for home.

Mom was as upset as that lady had been when I came in through the kitchen door. "Jeremy! What in the world?"

I held up a hand before slumping to the table. "Water first, questions second," I pleaded, pulling off the shredded shirt. My throat felt like sandpaper, I was so winded.

Mom quickly filled a glass of water, which I took and gratefully gulped down, spilling at least half down my neck in the process.

"What happened?" she asked.

I was still panting, although the water helped. "Some crazy dog attacked me."

Mom gasped. "Did it bite you?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. But it ripped up my shirt."

"I can see that." Mom locked the door, drew the blinds, then gestured for me to stand up and began to check me over from the waist up for injuries. "Did anyone see you?"

I really didn't want to answer, but I knew she'd know the truth even if I didn't. "At least one person saw me," I replied, and filled her in on the details of my brush with the lady in the yard.

Mom bit her lip and nodded. "Well, thank God you had the sense to cover your face," she remarked.

I nodded. "Amen to that."

"What's going on?" asked Dad, coming in.

"Jeremy lost his shirt to a dog," Mom explained. "It looks like all he got were some cuts and bruises running, but he was seen on his way home."

Dad let out a low moan of dread. "Did they recognize you?"

I shook my head. "Wore a mask," I explained for the second time, picking up the tattered shirt.

Dad nodded. "Good thinking."

"So what do we do?" I asked. "Are we going to have to move?"

He shook his head. "Probably a bad idea. That would just arouse suspicion. We'll try to act normal and keep a low profile until this blows over."

Even then it sounded hard. It was going to sound even harder after I went shopping with Tess the next week.

* * *

**In the immortal words of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, "Dun-da-da, we're dead."**


	12. A Fine Mess at the Mall

**My apologies for the long delay. Life's been crazy and I had technical difficulties.  
**

**Special thanks to Skillets for laying the groundwork for this chapter.**

* * *

Tess and I had our first "date," if you could call it that, at the mall. Dad said that would be a good way to find out about her priorities, but added that I should leave my wallet at home. As it turned out, money was the least of my worries.

Things were pretty low-key at the first couple of stores we went to. She window-shopped at a fashion boutique here, a jeweler there, bought a few things. I tried to figure out a way to ask if she was a Christian, but everything I could think of was either too Billy Graham or too Christopher Churchmouse. It didn't help that she kept my brain preoccupied with questions about how this would look and did these pants make her look fat. So far all I was learning about her was that appearances meant a lot to her. Okay, not the best of signs, but what did I expect her to be doing, stocking up on Bibles? Most girls at my church liked to look good too, or so I assumed. She also didn't seem to mind covering a snack at the pizza shop in the food court when I told her I had no money. "You can pay me back later," she said as she rang it up on her parents' credit card.

I wouldn't have minded a free slice of double-cheese, but she was a girlfriend, not a piggy bank.

It was only when we reached our next destination – one of those stores I try not to even look at as I pass – that I realized I'd made a dumb mistake coming at all.

"Jeremy, where are you going?"

I looked toward her, concentrating hard to look at her and not the store front window. "I don't know, where are you going?"

"In there," she replied, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

I could feel my face turning red. "Well, have a good time. I think I'll wait in the bookstore."

I made it five steps before I felt her hand on my arm. "Come on, Jeremy, it's just a store."

'_An underwear store,'_ I thought. "Yeah, I'd just rather not go in," I replied, turning to face her.

"Come on, don't be a weirdo." She tried to pull me along, but I locked my legs and stayed put like an anchor. If she wanted me to go into that store, she'd have to drag me, and she didn't have the muscle.

"No thanks," I replied, extracting my arm from her grip. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, which for all the practice I'd had at it still felt like a failed effort, I walked over to Baileywick Books and headed for the fantasy section. I needed a good dose of fiction to clear my head of this reality.

Half an hour later, I had almost gotten over that business outside the "girls-only store" by scanning a copy of Dragonology and shaking my head at the mistakes. Dragons using jewels as stomach armor?

"Hey," came a voice behind me. "Anything good?"

I didn't even have to look up to know it was Tess. I shook my head, trying to pretend everything was normal. That I wasn't bugged about her being bugged about… ah, you get the idea. "Eh, bunch of mumbo-jumbo. It's hard to believe they even thought this stuff up."

She looked over my shoulder as I stood. "So, you're into dragons?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, it's a sickness. Kinda runs in my family."

She snorted. "A science about dragons? Who thought of that idea? Nothing like them could ever exist."

'_If you only knew,'_ I thought. "It's still fun to read about," I offered in defense.

"Yeah, if you like that junk."

Ouch, and girls think guys are insensitive? "Gee, thanks. Should I make some quips about your taste in clothes?"

"What? Hey, don't be a dweeb about it. It's just a store."

I'll spare you the details of the argument. To make a long story short, I finally got her to stop making a fuss when I asked if she wanted me looking at her like a non-person. After a moment's pause, she changed the subject. "So, you find any books you want to buy?"

I shook my head. "No, I've got better than this on my shelf at home." I put the book back. "Let's go."

"Great, I've got a few more stores to visit."

I just hoped there wouldn't be any more skimp shops.

By the checkout of the last store I felt half-dead, loaded down like Graceless from Pilgrim's Progress. Not with bags, but with doubt. It seemed like I had been totally wrong about things with Tess, but the prospect of breaking up seemed almost as bad as continuing. I was just in the middle of trying to convince myself that there was some way of changing her attitude when something blew my thoughts like a nuke.

"Hey, check this out," she said, handing me a magazine. It was one of those tabloids that feed off of unusual stories. Normally I wouldn't have bothered to even consider if any of it were true, if it weren't for the front cover catching my eye.

You know how sometimes when you get really bad news it takes a minute to sink in? That's what happened. At first all I saw was a tabloid cover showing a bunch of stuff: Elvis clone marries two-headed alien, Loch Ness Monster Lays Eggs, the usual junk. Then I noticed the picture in the lower right-hand corner, and my gut clenched like a fist as my danger sense went into overdrive.

It was me. Not that anyone who wasn't in my family would know, thanks to the rag wrapped around my head. But the bright orange scales were a dead giveaway.

"Stupid dog…" I muttered.

"What did you say?" Tess asked.

"Nothing!" I blurted, feeling the panic start to come on. My worst fears were being realized. I had to tell myself to calm down. _'Don't worry, you were wearing a mask. No one can tell that it's you.'_

"Pretty weird, huh?" she continued.

"What!? Yeah… weird… heheh…"

Tess frowned. "Something wrong?" she asked.

"No!" I said a little too quickly and wishing she'd stop asking. I mentally cringed, using all of my might to refrain from doing so physically. "Nothing's wrong," I repeated, this time more calmly, trying to keep my voice steady. If she even guessed that it was me… I didn't even have to tell myself the implications; they had haunted me for so long.

"Are you sure?" she said. "You seem kinda… jumpy."

"I'm fine." I offered a weak smile that I hoped would convince her.

"Okay…" she said in a vaguely unconvincing tone. However, at the moment I was hypersensitive to it, when usually small hints like that would just fly over my head.

'_Great, now she thinks I'm even more of a freak…'_

Something in my brain told me I was overreacting. I just had to calm down, before she got too suspicious.

"They always doctor photos to look like that," I offered weakly, hoping she would buy it. My story, not the magazine.

"Maybe…" she said, taking back the magazine and staring at it. "I think I'll buy it," she said, registering a bolt of panic in me, "so I can read the article. It says the picture was taken by a woman in our town. Flipping to the page mentioned, she began reading out loud. "'She found the creature scuttling around her yard…'" Now she was reading directly from the article, and her eyes got wide when she saw the address. "Isn't that really close to where you live?"

I looked. "Yeah," I said. "Weird." She continued to read the article as she waited in line at the register. Suddenly, I was hit with an idea. Grabbing a copy, I made my way toward Tess, and stood in line behind her. She looked up from the tabloid.

"You're buying one too?"

"Yeah," I replied, thinking fast. "Matt lives on that street. I think he'd like to see this."

It wasn't a lie. I figured Matt would want to see it even if I'd regret showing him later. The whole truth, though, was that I intended to show my parents.

* * *

**Uh-oh. Moving to another state is starting to look like a good idea...**


	13. When Things Go Wrong, Make Mistakes

**Sorry for the long delay, and I realize that this hasn't been my most exciting story. Hopefully what comes soon will be an improvement.**

* * *

It wasn't easy keeping mycomposure as I drove Tess back to her house. I thought my head was going to split as I wondered how to break the news to Dad. "Hey Dad, guess what? I made the front cover of the National Enquirer." Yeah, that would be bad news for anybody. For us it was more like Armageddon. What did I think, that I could tell him someone took my picture and he'd just have an easy answer to make it all go away? That he'd be calm about it? Heck, _I_ was having a heart attack over it the whole way. _'Maybe we really will have to move now,'_ I thought. It didn't seem as bad as it would for most kids, I guess. I'd always kept pretty distant from most of the kids at school, so it wasn't like I would miss that many of them. Just Matt, and a few people at church. _'It'd save me the trouble of breaking up with Tess,'_ I thought. That was almost a relief under the circumstances. I found myself trying to work up the courage to talk to her about that, but the longer I tried the harder it got. The last thing I wanted was another huge argument, especially while I was driving. More distractions were the last thing I needed.

As if she'd been reading my mind, Tess suddenly poked me hard in the shoulder.

"Hello, earth to Jeremy?"

"Huh?" I looked at her, then remembered what I was doing just in time to avoid wiping out someone's picket fence. "Yow!"

I think we both screamed; I know I did as I jerked the wheel hard to get back on the street and slammed the brake.

"Hey!" she yelled, and although I couldn't see what she was doing I think she grabbed the door. "Watch the road!"

"Sorry, sorry!" I struggled to turn around without hitting the cars parked on either side, and realized we were in Tess's neighborhood just down the street from her house. Once I had caught my breath and assured myself that my heart wasn't going to blast its way out of my chest, I apologized one more time for good measure. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

"I could tell. I didn't think that argument at the store would rattle you like that."

_'Argument?'_ I wondered. _'Oh, right, the underwear place. Like I didn't have enough problems.'_ "Yeah," I fumbled, trying to go with that cover story (how's that for ironic?) without lying outright. "You, uh, kind of caught me off guard." Close enough; I just wasn't saying that the magazine was what really blindsided me.

She frowned, and I guess it was the sorry look in her eyes that did me in then. "Sorry," she said. "What did you have against going in there anyway?"

Like she even had to ask? I officially did not like where this was going. "It's just too much too soon," I said. "I mean, we just started dating. No offense, but I'd like to be able to look at you without picturing you in your underwear."

She gave me a weird look. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Suddenly I wished I could go back where it had been heading before. "No, no of course not," I fumbled in a way that really sounded unconvincing. "It's just too soon is all. I mean if we were..." I stopped. I was going to say "if we were married," but bringing up marriage would make me look even weirder than I was – which is definitely saying a lot. If my brain hadn't been so scattered I _might_ have reminded myself that she had hit the fast-forward button already, but considering I was still thinking in the back of my mind that we might have to move out of the country, I definitely wasn't my normal, rational self. "It's just too soon," I finished lamely.

She didn't do anything at first. Then she nodded. "Okay. Next time we go somewhere, you call the shots. When's our next date?"

Like I said, I as stupid right then. "I'll call and let you know," I promised, anxious to get back to my mortal peril. "There's something that came up at home."

* * *

"So that's it," I told my folks half an hour later. "I guess the lady in that house had a camera."

Mom groaned. "Did the article say anything else?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I haven't really read it yet."

Dad opened it to the page indicated and almost instantly shook his head. "This is bad."

"What does it say?" asked Mom, leaning in.

Dad pointed to one of the smaller pictures in the article. "This lady didn't just get Jeremy's picture, she got casts of his tracks."

"Oh no," I groaned. "Anyone who gets a good look at those can match them to my shoes."

Mom's face was so twisted with concern, it looked like she might implode. "They could trace them right back to you if you left a clear enough trail."

I groaned. "You're right."

"Well there's no pint in crying over spilled milk," Dad countered. "We need to figure out where this is going and head it off."

"How?" I asked.

Dad sighed, and I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't feeling any calmer then the rest of us. He put a hand to his chin and started thinking. "The best we can hope at this point is that no one will take the story seriously."

"It's not just the story," Mom pointed out. "This was someone in our town. What if word gets around?"

Dad's frown deepened. "I hadn't thought of that. We can't afford to do anything rash, but we can't afford to take risks either. I'll get in touch with my sister. If worse comes to worst, we may need to go into hiding somewhere, or at least relocate and change our identities."

"But your writing..." I protested. Dad wasn't famous or anything, but his name did sell. If he took a different name, it could flatten his career.

"It's not as important as keeping you safe," he reasoned. "Besides, if we left sooner rather than later, we could come back when the whole thing blew over."

He had a point there. If I wasn't around, no way there'd be any sightings of the Lizard Kid (nice nickname that rag gave me, by the way). "We'll have to listen to talk around town," I decided. "I just hope this does blow over quietly."

"We all do," Mom agreed. In the meantime, I'm getting you new shoes. We've got to get rid of those old ones and hope that keeps things out of our hair."

I was glad to have a hands-on solution. Call me weak on faith, but I's never liked things being where I couldn't handle them by doing something. Which was probably why I didn't mention the fiasco with Tess. Privately I was hoping that would just blow over.

Naturally, it didn't, any more than new shoes solved my other problems. Did I mention I can be really, really dumb sometimes?

* * *

**The next update will probably take quite a while (okay, so did this one. Sue me).**

**In a related note, does anyone else notice a strange similarity between Mom's solution to the problem and an approach similarly adopted in the Bible? Don't feel bad if you don't, I only just made the connection myself.  
**

**Belated Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!  
**


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